


The Five Senses

by baranduin



Category: The Alexander Trilogy - Renault
Genre: Drabbles, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-14
Updated: 2009-11-14
Packaged: 2017-10-02 18:37:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baranduin/pseuds/baranduin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of 100-word drabbles about how Bagoas perceives certain things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Senses

Sound

 

I learned the voices of desire. Oromedon taught me when and where and how each one would intensify pleasure. There was the quick indrawn hiss of breath, a subtle manner of welcoming the King into my body. Soft sighs were to be used lavishly, as much for the effect of warm breath on a bare shoulder as for their sound. Sharp cries, urging him to completion, accompanied long scratches on his thighs (though I was careful never to leave a lasting mark since I valued my head).

Alexander kissed my throat, and someone moaned with reckless abandon. It was me.

Smell

 

"You must take the greatest care when seeing that the bed is prepared for the King, especially in the matter of sprinkling perfume. Do not drown his senses, but remember that he is not there to smell you." Oromedon had smiled and dropped a kiss on my brow to soften his words. "Though of course you will always be clean and fresh in your body."

"Of course," I had said.

And now, I pressed my nose against the base of Alexander's sweat-damp throat and rubbed back and forth, drowning. He said to me, "Are you kin to Peritas, then?"

Taste

 

How could something so vile transform itself utterly? I had thought I would never erase the fetid scent from my nose or wash clean the rancid bitterness from the back of my throat. But I was wrong.

It was love that did it.

Alexander taught me of the holy ichor that flowed in the gods' veins. He told me no mortal could withstand its touch, but he was wrong. He said only the gods feasted on ambrosia and drank the honeyed nectar, but he was wrong there too.

He tasted like love; the more I drank, the more I thirsted.

 

Touch

 

All thought was gone. No sound or smell or taste remained.

There was only this: Alexander's body pressed against mine. His mouth, oh his warm mouth, moved slow and avid on my shoulder, on my neck, light so light I nearly dissolved beneath the weight of it.

The bed bore me up under the strength of him, held me there, pinned, and I was glad of it.

He shifted his hips, pushed against me, inside me. His cock twitched once, twice, three times; his semen flooded honey-thick into me.

And I turned inside out from the joy of him.

 

Sight

 

It was the last I had of him in this world, just as it had been the first.

His face was calm, all the lines of pain and worry smoothed away in his immortal sleep. Only the bright gold of his hair still blazed in the dark room when the embalmers entered to send him on his way with all the devotion they could muster. I backed away as they gathered around him; the door closed with a dull thud.

He was gone from me.

I would see nothing again until he kissed open my eyes and welcomed me home.


End file.
